Kiss and Makeup by Taryn Leigh Taylor

“Deeper,” she whispered, burying her head in the crook of his neck. “Please.”
    He was inside her with a single thrust, a fast, hard invasion of her body that knocked the wind from her in the best possible way.
    â€œI want you so much, Chloe,” he growled, proving it with every flex of his hips, until she was wild beneath him—panting, sweating, clinging.
    Her body was on fire for him. She pulled her knees up, trying to get closer, and the slight change in position must’ve felt just as good to him as it did to her, because he swore and upped his pace. Her entire world had narrowed to the pressure building inside her.
    Suddenly, he pushed himself up on one elbow, but before Chloe had a chance to mourn the loss of his chest against her breasts, he moved his hand between them and rubbed his thumb roughly against the most sensitive part of her, startling a cry from her throat. Her brain short-circuited as a sharp shock of white-hot heat rolled through her, swamping her with pleasure a moment before he joined her in nirvana.

4
    B EN STEPPED FROM the jet bridge onto the plane, stifling a yawn. He was definitely feeling the lack of sleep. Not that he was complaining. The mere memory of Chloe writhing beneath him, his hands on her skin, her tongue in his mouth... Ben shifted with discomfort as his dick stirred at the erotic recollection.
    What he
planned
to complain about when he saw Chloe again was the fact that he’d woken up alone this morning. But first he had to make it to his seat. He shuffled farther into the plane, waiting as the gentleman in front of him hoisted his suitcase into the overhead compartment.
    Jesus, he could still
smell
her. It was an unfortunate by-product of an overactive imagination and this morning’s shower. He’d used what she’d left in the tiny bottle of complimentary hotel shampoo, and now the achingly familiar perfume of flowers lingered around him. Normally it would have made him nauseous, but thanks to the wrestling match on the bed last night, it was making him horny.
    Ben pushed a hand through his Chloe-scented hair and continued to sidestep down the narrow aisle until he arrived at row G and the object of his lust-filled fantasies came into view.
    She was wearing faded jeans and a white T-shirt with a zombified Audrey Hepburn on it. Her lips were stained a deep shade of berry; her eyeliner was back with gothic vengeance. And if his cock had been mildly interested at the memory of her, the reality of Chloe had its full attention.
    Her
attention, though, was studiously focused on the in-flight magazine in her lap.
    â€œIs this seat taken?”
    She glanced up as he shoved his carry-on into the overhead bin. She might have sighed as he brushed past her to sit down, but he couldn’t be sure.
    â€œGuess I should have thought this through a little better. I was trying for a dramatic and mysterious exit after a single night of passion.” She flipped a glossy page with her index finger.
    â€œYeah, assigned seating really messes with drama.”
    She flipped another page. “Worst one-night-stand exit ever.”
    â€œOn the contrary. You were very quiet when you left—I didn’t wake up at all. Nothing was drawn on my face in permanent marker, and I still have my watch, my wallet and my credit cards,” Ben countered charitably. “As far as I’m concerned, this ranks very high on the scale.”
    His joke earned him a withering glare.
    â€œI meant that we’re stuck in forced proximity and tight confines, with no choice but to ignore each other awkwardly and try to keep our arms from touching until we can finally go our separate ways. Which reminds me, I’m claiming this now.” She laid her right arm on the armrest from elbow to wrist, completely covering it from view.
    â€œOr...we could defy the expected and skip the awkward silence. Just keep on living life as though I didn’t ruin you for other